


Game of Thones (2): Pain is Only a Feeling

by Madzie2000



Series: Star Ships: Best Non-canon Couples of TV and Film [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ramsay is his own warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 17:37:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8542543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madzie2000/pseuds/Madzie2000
Summary: Sansa Stark has been married off to Ramsay of House Bolton; he raped her on their wedding night and she hates him for it. However, things change when Ramsay sees the personal hell he's created for his lovely bride.Basically Ramsay shows Sansa that he can be gentle, but will it continue?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully I don't break any hearts, but this is RAMSAY BOLTON I'm writing about here...
> 
> *Now edited*

Sansa felt used. She had been Ramsay Bolton’s wife for a mere week and a half, yet she already felt bruises where his mouth had been on her shoulder. That was when he chose to fuck her like a dog. The nights she had to close her eyes or look up into the wildness of his face she hated the most. Now that she had felt what it was like to be a bride, she had learnt that Ramsay had no interest in her feelings. _This bath will do me a world of good_ , she thought to herself. When a servant girl walked past, Sansa held her head high and didn’t care if she saw the bites scattered across her neck. Someone should be allowed to understand her suffering.

“Fill up my bath with scalding water,” she said with an almost melancholy expression “and make sure it smells sweet.”

Thinking that Ramsay might be gentle with something that smelt so precious, Sansa smiled and crouched down to the girl’s level, forcing down her fears. The girl was too young to be hurt by the men, so what she was about to do wouldn’t have any consequences. At least, Sansa hoped it wouldn't. Sansa told the girl to wait and entered her room, returning with a sweet peach that had been dried up to less than half its size.

The girl smiled and said “Thank you, M’lady.”

Sansa’s smile grew bigger and she said with sincerity “You’re more than welcome.”

Dinner went on in silence, though it was only cut by a remark from Ramsay.

“I plan on sharing a bed with you tonight M’lady,” he said with a wicked grin.

Sansa kept her composure and looked at him, nodding sheepishly.

“I am bathing tonight for your satisfaction,” she said as she forced her third or fourth smile that day.

The look on Ramsay’s face made her want to retch; his smile was showing a genuine happiness.

He walked behind her char and stopped, leaning downward.

“That girl will be whipped until she bleeds,” Ramsay whispered into Sansa’s ear, “because she stole a piece of fruit.”

“I gave it to her from our room,” Sansa retorted, “You can’t punish her for something I did.”

“So true,” he said as his lips fastened onto an old mark, sucking hard.

Sansa made a pained squeal and Ramsay grinned as he left the room.

“You’ll pay for both of your sins,” he [promised with malice and a certain amount of promuise in his tone.

Sansa felt like she had made some small victory when she heard Ramsay dismiss a guard. _He said not to worry about the servant girl... at least she won’t be dead inside by morning._ Rather than feeling happy for the girl, Sansa was envious. She wouldn’t have to live with these scars for a few years... a noble Lady of House Stark would have to deal with these scars for the rest of her life.

 

Later that night...

 

Sansa was dipping her toes into the bath. An older woman had come in earlier and slipped the robe over her shoulders and saw cuts, scratches, bruises... each and every one of them was caused by Ramsay Bolton’s mouth or his nails and strong hands. Sansa put an entire lower leg into the water, then the other. Her hands sat on the sides of the metal tub and – as she lowered herself in – she realised how grateful for this room adjoining the bedchamber she was. She was so lost in her disturbing thoughts of her wedding night that she hadn’t heard the door open. Sansa sat up and leant forward, raising her knees high enough to bring them forward and lean her slender arms on them. As she began to cry, the silent watcher at the door didn’t know what to think; perhaps this was just what women did. However, upon hearing a familiar name, he was frozen in shock.

“Oh Gods...” she moaned into her hands as tears met with the now-warm bathwater, “what did I do to deserve a man who’s so cruel? Did I not pray enough? Have I been a bad wife and not given myself to him? The bastard took me like a wild animal... is that all I’ll ever be; the Lady who married a wild animal?”

The man kept listening as Sansa continued about feeling dirty, about her horrid husband who was never kind or gentle. Nothing she said sounded positive until five words escaped her lips.

“I wish things were different,” she sighed, “but with that man at my side I’d say they never will be.”

Sansa stood up and the man got a glimpse of her body and realised what she was talking about; those marks were not the kinds of marks a lover should make. At least, to a normal person anyway. The man ducked away and moved back from the door, thrusting an arm back in to pass Sansa a nightdress.

“Take this,” Ramsay said as a hand snatched the dress away, “it’s very cold tonight, even with the fire burning.”

Sansa was sure he sounded different, but what he said next made her want to stab him in the back as the door opened and their eyes met.

“I saw what I’ve done to you and...” he trailed off as his mind sought out the words he needed to say “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed.”

Sansa held his gaze but quickly avoided it, leaning over the end of the bed as he always liked her to. He didn’t need to see her face to know that she was tearing up, that her eyes were swollen with water. It was a wordless thing all of his women did before he fucked them, save for those who enjoyed pain and pleasure in combination. He just never seemed to see it as much as he did with Sansa. _Curse the Gods for making such an innocent woman!_

“You don’t need to lean,” Ramsay said as he sat on the edge of the bed, “just sit down next to me and lay in my arms.”

Sansa looked up and saw Ramsay eyeing her expression. He looked just as indifferent as her, though he had more light in his face than Sansa; she was more on the fearful side of things. Despite her heart begging her to run away and leave, the fact that Ramsay was less than himself – and wanted to hold her of all things – was inviting Sansa in. Ramsay took off his undershirt and lay with his britches on, putting an arm across the head board of the bed. Sansa sat on the edge and shuffled back a little, her lower back meeting Ramsay’s hip. When Sansa leant back, the hand across the top of the head board came down and began moving through her hair. Though he paid little heed to Sansa, Ramsay knew how much she despised hair being in her face. They sat for a time, quiet and calm, until Ramsay gently kissed Sansa’s neck. She jolted and he felt the muscles in her neck tense.

“You can calm yourself Sansa,” Ramsay said quietly into her ear, “I don’t plan on taking you tonight unless you want me to.”

At these words, Sansa’s heart grew frantic in her chest.

“Kiss me and make your choice,” he said as his hand slid down her hair, past her neck, to one creamy shoulder, and moved the edge of her nightdress down.

The gentle caress brought her only confusion. _This cannot be the same man I’ve been sharing a bed with? Where is his forcefulness or even the slightest hint of violence?_ Unable to find a reason to worry any further, Sansa lifted her head up and looked into Ramsay’s piercing blue eyes. In them she only saw the bad and looked down when his face moved closer for the kiss. Rather than getting mad, he used his other hand to lift her face and the tears were shining in them. This time however, they were in his eyes. His heart was breaking. He’d done so much wrong and he **liked** it. Why would the Gods give him such a beautiful wife who was horrified by his actions? His only answer was the **cruellest** of the Gods.

“Make your choice,” he managed to say forcefully, “Before the worst of me makes it for you.”

Sansa sat a hand on his cheek and stared into his eyes. For once, she didn’t look away.

“Come a little closer,” Sansa said as his hands moved to her back, pulling the young woman to her knees as he moved forward.

Though Ramsay’s kisses were usually full of animalistic lust or lacked any kind of romance, this one was different. He sat still and let her make the first move, going as far as to make Sansa push her tongue past his lips. For a moment he let his hands lay still as his tongue moved, coercing a tiny rumble in her chest. Gods be good, was it a moan? When they parted, Ramsay kissed Sansa on the forehead and kept their skulls close together, so much so that she could feel his breath on her nose.

“Will it be nothing this night or am I to care for this lust myself?” Ramsay said with a heated passion that was making Sansa’s heart thud louder than a hammer on metal.

She couldn’t tell whether he was kidding or if she was actually becoming aroused by what he’d said. Either way, she should have been worried, scared or even mad at him. She wasn’t as much of a Stark as she should have been in that moment.

“Share my bed,” Sansa said after a small pause.

Whether he was lying or not, she couldn’t say no. Ramsay pulled the sides of the nightdress down over her shoulders and exposed her breasts to the warming night air. The bruises should sicken him but he’d seen and done far worse than these. Sansa watched his eyes roam her flesh and when he found a nice trail of unmarked skin, he knew where he was headed. His lips started at her neck as he slid the nightdress to Sansa’s hips, kissing a small trail down to her shoulder. Ramsay pushed Sansa back against the pillows and sat between her legs, slowly moving a hand up under the nightdress. Sansa was worried; he never debased himself as far as to actually touch her body or even al;lowing himself to look at it for longer than a few seconds. Ramsay let a finger sink into Sansa’s body, hearing her whimper in pain. He liked it but he knew it was wrong. He’d always been wrong. Pain isn’t a crime but enjoying pain the way he did, it **had** to be. Before she was ready, Ramsay pushed a second finger into Sansa and she squealed.

“Relax your body,” Ramsay said as he tried to initiate a kiss with his wife.

Sansa saw the sadness wash across his face disappear and reappear in a second. His hands stopped moving and Sansa sat up on her elbows, looking at him incredulously. He actually seemed disappointed that she was denying him, but he had to be forceful now. Ramsay now knew what he had to; make sure that Sansa Stark hated him. Ramsay practically snapped the laces on his britches to remove them. With a single movement, he had himself buried inside of Sansa and she cried out, his body ripping hers apart from the inside out.

“Why?!” she said with tears in her eyes, “Why did you lie?”

 _He tried but now he’s just changing back, but why?_ Ramsay didn’t want to hear her cry and kissed her shoulders lightly, all the while moving in and out of her with harsh snaps of his hips. When Sansa pushed at him and forced her face under his, he felt like he should be hung, drawn and quartered. Gods above, she was kissing him of her own free will! And she was good at it too. Ramsay stopped moving and allowed himself to be absolved of his crimes through Sansa’s sweet, near-innocent kiss. His hands moved across her stomach and down to a nub above that place where their bodies were merged, making her jerk back. She liked it and he could tell. Moving far slower than he had been, Ramsay moved a finger across the nub and continued gently thrusting into Sansa, slowly building up to the release he was craving. Upon hearing her moan wantonly, he sped up and the kiss broke. Sansa’s voice has become low, sensual, the voice of a woman.

“Where was this man when we got married?” Sansa said as she bit at his neck.

“Gods you make my blood boil,” Ramsay said as his thrusting grew impatient, “I’ve always like hearing screams and cries but only when I saw those tears did I think of what others felt. I wanted you to hate me.”

“I will never love you Ramsay Bolton,” Sansa said honestly as her breathing grew erratic, “but I can certainly be thoroughly disgusted you!”

With a smile, Ramsay suckled at Sansa’s breast and sent her over the edge. She cried out as a wave of pleasure surged through body, the muscles in her body constricting around Ramsay’s cock. He held onto Sansa’s shoulder and groaned into her ear as he filled her and corrupted her perfect body.

“I think you should be thoroughly disgusted more often,” he teased.

Sansa remained still as he pulled himself out of her and did up the laces on his breeches.

“Sansa,” he said as his wife replaced her clothing, “promise me something.”

Sansa adjusted her collar and looked into her husband’s cold blue eyes.

“Yes?”

“When the time comes, let me die,” he said flatly.

Sansa remembered those words and she knew, in that moment, she would keep that promise. _I know your line cannot die. I have it in my belly and it proves you aren't entirely cruel. A cruel man would tell me to let you live..._

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Next up in this series I'll be having 2 Arya Stark ships ready to go XD
> 
> If you liked this story please leave kudos, a comment or secretly enjoy the fact that Ramsay is dog food right now.


End file.
